He and him
by A-Karana
Summary: Set after episode 11x07: Cam's thoughts after her date with sexy Sebastian


Another one shot, this time a lot shorter. I just couldn't lt last week's episode stand like this. Then again I am still hoping. So I might continue this if he eer comes back.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Part of the dialogue is borrwed from the show.

* * *

 **He**

It had got cold, she realized once she stepped out onto her rooftop terrace. She thought of going back inside and getting her coat, but then decided against it. Instead she wrapped her grey woolen vest more tightly around herself and closed the balcony door behind her. As she looked out over the twinkling of the city she lit the first cigarette, placed the package beside her arm on the balustrade and inhaled deeply. The smoke she blew out flowed out into the night and she watched it go before she inhaled again.

It had been a while since she had stood here like this in the middle of the night, smoking because her thoughts kept her awake and she couldn't sleep. _He_ , the reason why she hadn't smoked in so long, entered her thoughts and she could see _his_ face in front of her eyes. Like always her breath hitched, tears filled her eyes and her chin started to quiver. Quickly she took another puff and blew the emotions out into the night with the white smoke.

„ _You say that like I told you so"_

„ _Wonderful"_

She wondered where _he_ was now. Was _he_ still living in D.C. or had _he_ already moved to another city. Or another country.

Had _he_ moved on while she still couldn't? Was _he_ dating again and seeing other women? Or maybe _he_ had found another girl to love. She didn't want to think about it, but couldn't help thinking about it at the same time.

She had tried it that evening. Going out there again, dating a man. The evening with Sebastian had been nice. The food had been tasty, the wine great and conversation had flowed easily between them. He was interesting, sexy even and she enjoyed his company. Before _him_ she was sure that she would have started something with Sebastian, even if it was just for one passionate night. She wouldn't have let that chance pass by.

Now she had given him a chaste kiss goodbye- on his cheek, and had gone home alone.

She knew that Angela was right and that she had to try at least to find someone again that was giving her that feeling she had with _him_. However she couldn't force it and it hadn't felt right to go home with Sebastian. A bit like cheating, although there was no one she could cheat on.

She put out the cigarette on the wall, placed it in an empty flowerpot and got another cigarette out of the package. She lit it, inhaled, blew out the smoke.

„ _Do you want me to quit?"_

„ _And live with that guilt? No, thanks."_

At first, once _he_ had picked up his things, had hugged her goodbye and had left, she had thought about begging _him_ to come back, about changing her mind and going with _him_ \- no matter where. She knew it was wrong, so she had stopped herself. It would have been foolish to give up her job just because _he_ needed to find a new one. She had worked too hard for too long to give it up like that. Still, part of her felt that they had given up too easily on their relationship. _He_ had given up too easily. Ending it instead of getting married had been _his_ idea after all. She wondered what _he_ had done with the ring _he_ had bought for her.

She had felt sure about this relationship. After some time of adjustment and her playing chicken she had been very sure. She could see them growing old together. She could see herself getting married to _him_ and knew she would never regret it. It had been the only relationship in her life so far where she felt they were completely equal. They could talk about anything, discuss everything, weigh pros and cons together before decisions and stay up talking and laughing all night, simply because they enjoyed each other's company so much.

Her second cigarette was nearly done as well she realized as she looked down to her hand. _He_ hated it when she smoked. Hated the smell and that she could die before _him_ because it was unhealthy. So she had stopped. For _him_. Like a rebellious teen she stuck out her chin, determination written all over her face. She lit up the third cigarette and threw the second to the other in the pot.

„ _I love you"_

„ _I really don't know what that means right now"_

Shouldn't she have known that it would end that way? Back then when simply being with her wasn't enough anymore and _he_ had started talking marriage even though _he_ knew she wasn't ready. Or when _he_ had gone to Iran to help his brother without really discussing it with her? _He_ had made the decision alone, just like _he_ had ended their relationship without giving her a chance. But _he_ loved his brother and his family, so what could she do? She had loved him even more for the simple fact that _he_ cared so much about family and thought it would reflect on how _he_ would treat her. But she wasn't his family. And so _he_ had left.

The nicotine of the third cigarette made her slightly dizzy. She wasn't used to it anymore. She didn't stop smoking. Her throat started to hurt.

It was a mild ache compared to the hole in her heart, that still felt like it had been ripped apart. It sounded cheesy and cliche, but she was sure that _he_ had taken a part of it with him. She wasn't sure she'd get it back.

She missed not only _him_ and everything they had shared. She missed watching his team play baseball. She missed his mother's emails and the recipes and pictures she send. She missed his brother's letters from Teheran and the monthly tea delivery. She missed the friends and family they had shared.

When she got queasy she put out the cigarette, threw it away and wrapped her arms around herself to protect herself from the cold wind that she only now noticed.

„ _No, it sounds perfect. And when I'm not being such a jerk, I would expect nothing less from you."_

She had thought about calling or texting _him_ , several times. More in the beginning when she had missed _him_ so much that _he_ had consumed all of her thoughts during the day and her dreams at night. It would only prolong the heartache, she knew, and so the radio silence between them had set it. She missed her best friend as much as all the other roles he had played in her life, maybe a bit more.

She played with the box of cigarettes, thought about lighting another one. Then decided against it. It would only make her feel worse, not better.

She had felt better already. Once she had been able to bury _him_ so deep down that she could distract herself with work and friends and TV shows. Now his name was back, his face, the sound of his voice, his smell and the way _he_ touched her. Everything that dating another man couldn't bring back. Not even sexy Sebastian with his foreign accent. The wrong accent.

Her fingers were turning white from the cold and she decided to go back inside, take her cigarettes with her, and turn on the TV. She wouldn't sleep anyway. Couldn't sleep really because the memories of _him_ were back while _he_ was not. _Arastoo_ had left her. And she missed _him_.

„ _His name is Arastoo Vaziri, and he's a good man, a generous man, and I love him."_


End file.
